This blog is for all who desire to create with words and images.
You are encouraged to participate in any way that is meaningful to you.~
All prompts beneath the photos are only suggestions. You are free to use the photo to be inspired to write any way you desire. ~ There is no deadline on posting, you may offer your writing to any prompt anytime.~Write and you are a writer.

"There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls." (George Carlin)

Shutting the book and returning to her desk, she turned the words over in her head as the pencil twirled between her fingertips. On a full moon night such as this, it seemed to be true. The countryside, touched by the moonlight, was still. It was as though the night was holding its breath, waiting, like a bow poised above a stringed instrument, a conductor with his baton raised, the listener perched on the edge of a chair. The cool air was thick with expectation.

Yet no music would sound into the night. Instead, the moon simply paused in the blue-black sky, her light spreading deep into the corners of the night, illuminating loudly the secrets of women working quietly in private chambers. As the silver dial reached the height of its waxing, some blew out candles, some prayed or recited incantations, while others tossed their arms upward to embrace their celestial queen.

Smiling softly, her pencil touched the paper. On such a silent night, when the wolves have lost their voices, the women will sing with the moon.

One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.

Sunlight glared through the dirty windowpanesHighlighting dust-covered bookson the sill

My thoughts were transferred to the books which, like the window, were not opened for years.

The illumination of the book coversbroke into my consciousness, prodding me to browse.

I opened the first and read the message, 'To Jim, with love, Aunt Ve, Xmas 1948.'

The book was 'I Married Adventure, by Osa Johnson with a zebra pattern cover. I remember reading the enthralling story of photographers Martin and Osa Johnson, pioneers and adventurers in the '20s, who chronicled their travels through the wilds of Africa and New Guinea (among other places) on film. My grandest 'discovery' was the sense of adventure that my aunt Ve instilled in me early in my life by this gift. I read a few chapters, looked at the photos, and put it back. Maybe the sunlight will strike the dusty covers again and some boy or girl will discover the adventurist in themselves.

In the disused storeroomNo one had enteredDecades the door had been lockedFather Rodriguez Carefully inserted the key in the lock,Turned it with an effortPushed open the heavy door.It squeaked.He pushed his way past the ancient habits andCeremonial robes.It must be somewhere.The sun caught his eye.He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up.There it was, up on the windowsill,Sunlight streaming on it.Just what he needed.What he had been looking for.

"There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls." (George Carlin)

Shutting the book and returning to her desk, she turned the words over in her head as the pencil twirled between her fingertips. On a full moon night such as this, it seemed to be true. The countryside, touched by the moonlight, was still. It was as though the night was holding its breath, waiting, like a bow poised above a stringed instrument, a conductor with his baton raised, the listener perched on the edge of a chair. The cool air was thick with expectation.

Yet no music would sound into the night. Instead, the moon simply paused in the blue-black sky, her light spreading deep into the corners of the night, illuminating loudly the secrets of women working quietly in private chambers. As the silver dial reached the height of its waxing, some blew out candles, some prayed or recited incantations, while others tossed their arms upward to embrace their celestial queen.

Smiling softly, her pencil touched the paper. On such a silent night, when the wolves have lost their voices, the women will sing with the moon.

I was walking by the display when the beautiful colors of this book caught my eye. The front cover displayed a mosaic of orange, yellow and reds; all blending into each other. The words I read said…”A Letter to My Daughter”.

Something stirred inside of me; a gently pulling of warmth and need. I picked up the book and looked it over. As I looked at the words on the back of the cover, I realized that this book was placed in my eyesight for a purpose.

Having lost my mother in August, I’d found myself lacking inside; even though my heart knew it was okay, I began to miss her. Finding this book, I felt as though it was a gift just for me.

Upon bringing it home, I began reading; hardly putting it down. One of the first quotes that touched my heart was this:

“I gave birth to one child, a son, but I have thousands of daughters. You are Black and White, Jewish and Muslim, Asian, Spanish speaking, Native Americans and Aleut. You are fat and thin and pretty and plain, gay and straight, educated and unlettered, and I am speaking to you all. Here is my offering to you.” ~ Maya Angelou

This book filled me up to overflowing with quotes and thoughts and love. It warmed my heart and soul. It was, as perfect as a gift could be, a gift for me in these days of finding myself as a motherless daughter.

- The wolf's eyes sparked green as if he were laughing deep inside. "Foolish boy," it snarled, "don't you know anything about Fantastica? It's the world of human fantasy... it is created in the mind of a human. Therefore it has no boundaries." ... "Why is Fantastica dying?" ... "People have begun to lose their hopes and forget their dreams and so the Nothing grows stronger... it's the emptiness that's left. - Michael Ende, The Neverending Story

"What shall we be today?"The boy asked the empty space"How about an Arabian riderwinning in a race!"

"No, you're right." He sighed and slumped,"We've done that just last week.Maybe we could be adventurerswith an ancient treasure to seek!"

"Or pirates on the search for golda-plundering we shall go!Or perhaps we'd be better off as Knightsslaying dragons in the snow!"

The boy stared at the empty spaceand felt sadness as never before.His perfect friend once sat there but the boy couldn't see him anymore.

Time had forced him to grow up, dismissing dreams he had as a boy.The loss of childlike wonderand hope had left an empty void.

Now his mind was full of budgeting,family fights, and looking for jobs.as his imagination, lost and lonely,sits in emptiness and sobs...

People with no dreams and hopesare easy to controlDon't ever forget your childhoodbecause imagination conquers all!

"When we learn our day to day lessons, we need to remember to incorporate our juvenile enthusiasm into forming the wisdom of experience"

Paulo Coelho

Paulo Coelho is one my favorite authors. Once I wrote him an e-mail asking some questions regarding the way he writes, the nature of writing itself, my love for writing and reading. It was a LONG e-mail I have to admit.

A few months later I recieved a small card, through the mail, signed by the author. The above words were written on it...

I like these words because I see in them something that I try not to lose in my journey through life. I see...hope.

I keep this card in a book. Once in a while I open that book, read the card, put it back and try to remember the message behind the words. Then I get on with my life, forget all about the message, get carried away, make mistakes, open the book again, read the message and...the cycle of life continues!

---This is a card I love (there's a picture of a sleeping baby on it):"Someday, he'll be a big-time movie star or a fifth-grade English teacher,Someday, he'll marry, have a few kids.Maybe he won't.Someday, he'll change the world as we know it.Or maybe he'll travel, send postcards from China, phone you from Paris.Someday, he's going to be a big, strong man able to carry you in his arms.One day, he'll have his own hopes and dreams,not knowing that once upon a quiet time,you closed your eyes and made a wish to one day have him in your life."

---(Haiku)The hopes and dreams IHave for you, become my questTo teach what I know

I don't have a creative idea (I should be doing homework!) but I was just thinking of this quote since I have it on my wall and was rearranging. It was the quote on my page-a-day calendar on the day I graduated high school. It's always inspired me and seemed especially fitting on that day.

To avoid lifelong obscurityShe creates art with such purityShe draws and paints, creates pure joys,While there is nothing she destroys,Except for her fiscal security.

Limerick inspired by the quotation:“My first thought about art, as a child, was that the artist brings something into the world that didn’t exist before, and that he does it without destroying something else. A kind of refutation of the conservation of matter. That still seems to me its central magic, its core of joy.” ---John Updike

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